Rashomon at the Ballot Box

My sisters and I have an expression that returns to us whenever we talk about our childhoods: “Obviously, we grew up in different houses.” In fact, we all grew up together in the same house, with the same parents, part of the same family. But our narratives of the experiences of our childhoods vary so much that it seems we cannot possibly all have grown up in the same house.

As the long awaited election day in Israel is finally arriving, this Rashomon-like experience reflects perfectly my experience of the word Zionism. In Israeli political discourse today the expression “the Zionist parties” is often used as an umbrella term to describe all the parties that are not Arab and not Haredi. It feels that every time I turn around, someone is assuring us that their party is truly Zionist, most represents Zionist values and obviously is therefore the one to vote for.

For many years, living here in Israel, I hesitated to refer to myself as a Zionist. This, in fact, is truly ridiculous. Who else but a Zionist would move to Israel without having experienced oppression, poverty, discrimination, or a lack of opportunity in the United States? Who else but a Zionist would place such value on being part of the religious majority, leaving her family and childhood society behind to live here? Truly, only a Zionist does those things.

Yet, like many people I know, when calling myself a “Zionist” meant something to the listener so fundamentally different from what I intended, I stopped using it. But in a post–October 7 world, I—along with many others—have reclaimed the word. Still, whenever I identify as a Zionist, I find myself having to define what I mean, which in some ways renders the word meaningless. After all, what good is a word if you have to define it every time you use it?

Since there is no way that everyone who calls themselves a Zionist, or every party who calls itself a Zionist party, can possible agree on a definition of the word, those of us who call ourselves Zionists need to clarify for our listeners what we mean, and what we don’t mean.

I do not claim to have any authority to define this word for anyone else’s usage. But those of us who define ourselves as Zionists, or who purposely do not identify as Zionists, it might be helpful to examine what we mean when using that word.

For me, Zionism is not a call for Jewish supremacy- not here in Israel and not anywhere else in the world.
Zionism does not mean that non-Jews living in Israel should not hold the same and equal political rights as Jewish citizens of the State of Israel.
For me, Zionism is not a messianic call to reject any territorial compromise.
For me, Zionism does not see a peaceful and negotiated agreement to end the bloody conflict with our Palestinian neighbors as a theological sin that halts the redemption process.

Zionism is a historic opportunity for Jews to build a national identity based on Jewish and Hebrew culture.
Zionism is a commitment the continued building of the State of Israel as a country that allows the Jews to be active players in our own destiny as a nation, through statehood.
Zionism is the understanding that the State of Israel is the ultimate guarantor of physical safety for Jews worldwide against antisemitism. We, the citizens of the State of Israel are responsible not only for our own safety, but ultimately, for the safety of all Jews, everywhere.

These three elements are what, at least in theory, all the parties which are labeled as “Zionist parties” in the political parlance today have in common.

None of those things dictate Jewish supremacy, bigotry, or seeing non-Jews as second class. None of those things demand that Jews have sovereignty over all of the Biblical Land of Israel.

But please, if you have decided that if I don’t believe in Jewish supremacy, bigotry, and seeing non-Jews as second class citizens, than I cannot possibly be a real Zionist, than I beg to differ. And if you have decided that Jews don’t need Zionism because Zionism necessarily mandates inequality and oppression for non-Jews, than I beg to differ.

When I vote in these elections I will be casting my vote for a future that honors both the Zionist promise of Jewish self-determination and the fundamental values of justice, equality, and peace.

Just like siblings who have completely different memories of the house they grew up in, when we walk into a voting booth, we carry our different narratives with us.  The parties on the ballot will continue to argue over who owns the word Zionism and what it requires of us. But as for me, I refuse to let the most dogmatic and zealous voices dictate what my home or my identity means.